Such Great Heights
by The Duchess of Pen
Summary: Kim's unexpected nightmare begins to plague her, sending her life careening into confusion. All the while the antagonists keep antagonizing...and who in the world is this new girl at Middleton High?


**Hahaha, hi guys! First fanfic, first time touching onto the Kim scene. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the first chapter, I had a lot of fun making it, and I can't wait to see how others will like it! As usual, Kim Possible does not, in fact, belong to me. Nupe. ;D **

**Read on, lovely fic readers! Read on! **

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"_When will you realize, that after the storm is the rainbow?" _

_A scrutinizing look checked her wrinkled nose, forcing those narrowed eyes to widen in growing amazement. The swelling only increased the hypnotizing allure of the glassy irises, a shade of blue so profoundly gray that it sparked a noticeable doubt in the back of your mind as to what color it actually was. An eye that, no doubt, brought a wave of butterflies to the stomach that reprimanded her, for his face flicked away before his stone expression could fall to nothing. A curl of his lip—cool, poisoned—positioned his lips cruelly, turning that ashy exterior to something alarmingly worse. _

_A sense of fear blossomed in her chest, forcing those same wild, magnificent eyes to grow ever more, a dangerous quality adorning their more angelic beauty. Brows swept to furrow over them, an expression of clear, bold resistance throttling the alarm that had dared etch its way into her face, twisting her features into something less appealing. In the time it took, his gliding steps had brought him inches from her face, breath warm as it broke along her nose—she barely felt the whisper of his hand along her back; her jerk away showed her obvious tension, the inevitable discomfort she got from the mere touch. _

"_My hands are cold, are they not?"  
"What was with the whole rainbow line? Nice touch—planning to liven up your speech anymore? Give me a chance to puke next time."  
"I'm glad you found your voice." _

_The sarcasm was fluent, as easy as an insult on his tongue. The faintest curl of his lips brought a sharpness to his eyes, as delectable as a stab in the chest. Though his face was flawless, though that snow-powdered skin was smooth like his voice—the ice of his touch only forced the girl to remember his twisted inner-self. _

"_Stop touching me," There was his hand again, toying with the back of her neck, slipping around now to dance along the skin of her collarbone. She ducked away, moving nimbly beneath a weak spot in his stance, under his arm and a step back. He made no move to grab at her recoil, stiffly erecting his tall frame, watching down on her. "All I want is the stone—no need to get enjoyment out of this little rendezvous." She said calmly, picking through each word with a deft flick of her gaze._

_Those eyes—his own could almost match hers, with such a hypnotizing effect—yet they held an edge, so close to dangerously, demonically untrue. Tainted. Those smoky eyes were darkened by evil—the perfection teetering uncertainly on the balance of astoundingly gorgeous and cruelly unclean. A sneer touched his face, so easily sinister the girl's back stiffened, slipping into a subtle defensive position._

_  
"I reply to your…Master, am I right? With a message."  
"A message? You promised the stone—I'm not taking some message."  
"I'm afraid you must, if you want the stone."  
"Yes. I want the stone. Glad you gathered this.." She flicked her eyes over his body, surveying the distinct closeness of them, though the distance had increased with her small hop away. They were still weren't far enough apart, and it irked her. "So…the message?"_

"No stone for you."

With that, he promptly disappeared, trailed only by a billow of smoke. 

"**NO!**" The word erupted from Kim's throat, bouncing threateningly through the room. A surge of panic crawled to tighten the confides of her body, a sharp pain of disgust and regret mingling with the blow made by the former emotion. The teenager was sharply puzzled by these interwoven feelings, all tied taut like a bow in her chest—why? The faint memories of her dream slipped away as her mind attempted to snag them, forcing Kim's body to double over, arms splayed between her legs, exhausted.

"Kim, sweetheart!" Whispered a voice from behind the door—In a moment it was opened, the faint sound of it resisting the small push snapping the redhead's face up to greet it. Sheepishly, Kim looked away, still mulling over the remnants of the dream, of the confusion that came with her newly tangled emotions—the knot piled in the pit of her stomach, not even comforted away by the sight of her mother and father at the door. In fact, she only felt the desire to slip under the covers and be alone, though a cool hand on her shoulder and a weight on her bed told her that wasn't about to happen. Kim briefly smiled, thought twice, and gave a more confident one—there was no need to establish a fear in her parents. There was no good in that.

"Bad dream, Kimmy Cub?" Her dad asked, the wrinkles along his mouth creasing with a slow frown. He rubbed the lump that was Kim's leg, glancing at Mrs. Dr. Possible subtly, who answered with a quick quirk of her brow. They both watched Kim's face tighten into a larger grin, almost to the point of absurdly fake—she kept it in tact, however, by giving an airy chuckle.

"Mom, Dad, it's nothing." Kim piped eagerly, shifting her body to collect the covers in the crook between her leg and stomach. Nestling showily into her pillow, she sighed. "Yeah, only a bad dream—go back to bed, guys, I didn't mean to wake you."

"But—" Dr. Possible was cut off by Kim's lifted palm, a small tilt of her head only urging them away.  
"You sure you don't want to talk about it, Kim?" Came her father's insistent voice, growing lower and more grave as Kim's antics became more floundering. The teen only laughed it off, leaning further into the pillow.

"Dad, I barely remember my dream. Go to bed, guys, I'm _fine_." A third laugh and she rested her cheek on the pillow, listening as her parents quickly exited her room. There was a faint click, a pause, and a following click, trailed by a slow creak.

"You sure—"  
"Dad, so not the drama."

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The confusion of the dream had faded to nothing in her second attempt to doze off. In fact, Kim slept soundly, drowsily tempted awake by the low buzz of her alarm clock. Snaking an arm to shut it off, a single green eye peeked from under the warmth of the covers, squinting painfully into the glare of the sunlight.

"Kimmy, good morning!" The faint call barely broke through the barrier the door made. Kim groaned, tucking her arms under the pillow, burying her face in it—she didn't want to go to school, especially with the faint tug of those feelings she had been woken by last night. For that alone Kim squeezed her eyes shut, slipping into the darkness, dreamily allowing her thoughts to grow foggy…sleep was good…very good…

"Kim!"

Jolted awake, the redhead swung her body upright, hands smoothing down the tangle her hair had grown to become. The faint pull on her stomach was the only reminder of her feelings, the thirst to know why she felt such a thing—it was as if she had forgotten to do something—biting at her inner thoughts. The only thing she could think to in a situation like this was to block out all other feelings with work, and set to do so by first slipping out of bed. In seconds it was made, brain driven on the work, next bringing herself silently to her wardrobe and donning clothes for today.

"Sweety, there's breakfast downstairs, and it's gonna be cold soon, okay?" Pulling her shirt over her body and tugging it into place, while at the same time spinning to find her brush, Kim had no chance to shout her okays back—instead she wound her fingers around the brush and pulled through the knots in her hair, mouth pursed and thoughts on only the pain in her scalp.

'Alright, slightly rushed,' in the mirror Kim brought her posture straight, snapping the clothing into place, smoothing her hair, and finally jetting through the door, mind bent on counting each step as it came. The storm of feelings had blurred to a feeble nothing, though thoughts of them alone had became nothing but a distant occurrence, shoved smoothly to the back of her mind.

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Ron slipped his hand into Kim's, brushing his body along hers—it was unintentional, sure, but usually the touch of their bodies brought a static excitement to the girl. Instead, Kim only looked away, almost discomforted by the sudden indifference of his skin against her own. Flicking her eyes down at her outfit, she grasped the fact she hadn't truly picked out what she was going to wear by Ron—usually the decision revolved around her boyfriend. What he said he loved her in, what would bring a smile, a flush, a wide-eyed-look…anything, to his face.

But today?

Two fingers plucked absently on the loose, pastel blouse, surveying the color that blended strangely with her skin tone—and clashed terribly with her hair. Was this dream really doing a job to her brain, or was it just…no. Kim's face turned to watch Ron's, waiting with held breath for the butterflies, seeking their thrill. The dancing, fluttering feeling was void to her now, bringing a distant frown to her face. She glanced away, half frightened by this, half in confused panic—didn't the night before he make her feel so special? Didn't just last night when his fingers tightened in her hand…didn't that make her want to kiss him, to have him hold her?

She turned her face to him again, searching his profile for a hidden glimmer of remedial love—something, anything, to bring those assuring butterflies back. Ron finally noted he was being watched, and turned his own face to Kim, a toppled grin lifting one end of his lips, the freckles that peppered his cheeks becoming more prominent with the goofy, boyish smile.

"I know you can't resist The Ron, but come on, K.P, the staring's kinda freaking me out." The Ron tilted his head—usually, that would provoke tender thoughts—but today nothing happened. Ron didn't notice—he was utterly oblivious, as usual—and rather continued his conversation, skirting the weirdness of her stare.

"Anyway, so Rufus and I definitely need to collect all ten at Bueno Nacho—because, I mean, K.P, just picture 'em! Are they not _the_ most awesome-est of awesome…_things _you've ever seen?" Ron brought his hand at eye level, twisting it absently to animate his already colorful conversation, Rufus himself slipping from Ron's pocket to his shoulder, nodding eagerly as he went on about the Bueno Nacho action figures (one in every Bueno Meal!). Kim's face was blank, surveying the ground as the incessant buzzing droned on, alarmed by how disgusted, rather than amused, she was of the whimsical Ron-speech. Troubled, Kim barely even nodded, and refrained from the courtesy of lending a nod to show she had the tiniest string of attachment to his conversation. Why did she feel so sick to her stomach?

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The bell rang, and with a loud rustle of many papers seized at once, the entire class hightailed it from the room, bolting through the door before the teacher could add another word in. Kim was sticking with the pack, keeping to the heels of her fellow students as they made for the heart of the school—the lunchroom. The tugging in her stomach at this point was more hollowed, hunger melting through her thoughts, buzzing with the desire for food. She didn't even stop by her locker, instead cramming the single lightweight book she had in her arms into the bag that hung from her shoulder, all the while glancing around the noisy lunch hall in search of Ron. Why did his name make her feel sick? Why did she feel like this?

Pausing before the lunch line, Kim froze, seeing the back of Ron's head, bowed as it messily ate through whatever concoction was being served today—Kim's eyes were trained uneasily on his back, rising and falling with ever noisy…messy…_chew_…she couldn't do it. She couldn't sit by him…not now—not when all the thoughts she had were in total repulsion of him, not when she was uncertain of her feelings. Before Ron could notice her belated approach, she had turned on her heel, briskly walking away from the crammed lunchroom.

She wasn't entirely sure where to go—the girl's bathroom would be infested by either, a, the sobbing newcomers; or, b, the gathering gossipers (neither of which she had any desire to talk with). The hallways would be stuffed with roaming teachers ready to shoo Kim off to class—and, goddamnit, she had walked today, so she couldn't drive to Bueno Naco for a bite. Aggravated by this, she let the halls snake before of her, led only by the linoleum itself…the first place she deemed fit to hide away in, she'd go to—

Well…that was quick! The Front Office's sign hung above the opened door, almost enticingly so. Pausing for a split second to gather her bearings, Kim hunched slightly and progressed through the doorway, face contorted in nausea all the while.

Upon entering, Kim was quickly greeted by a flurry of eyes pinpointed on her, only forcing the teen wonder to grimace further in the act. Clutching her stomach, she artistically dropped herself in a seat, nodding her face lower, allowing those fiery locks swing in front of her features, hiding the alternating expressions that wandered from her sick façade. Kim's eyes roved through the parted strands, watching intently as the assistant was distracted from her watch of Kim, turned to face a student, and pointed to a paper, at the same time sliding a pen to her waiting hands. Quick, well-rehearsed fingers found the phone, and upon hitting a button, loudly demanded:

"Nurse, we have a patient for you in the office. Yes—well, no. Why, I believe it's," She let her hand cover the receiver, glancing over at Kim's slouching form. "Kim Possible, yes—mmhmm, dear, whenever possible." A click was heard, but Kim's eyes were shut—fine. She'd see a nurse, get a check-over, and escape perfectly fine. Alluding lunch was all that mattered at the present moment.

"Alright, dear, let's see what you have here—ahhh, alright, then if you'll sign…here." There was a faint scratching noise, and a pause, "And initial here." The scratching and pause repeated itself. "Goodness, sweetheart, you sign fast—let me just print out your schedule, and you'll be on your way, alri—" A low ring broke the one way conversation. "Oh, drat—hello? Yes, this is Middleton High, how may I be of service?" Pause. "Oh! Nancy! Yes! PTA, of course I remember. Do you want me to buzz you to—no? Well then sweetheart what are you doin' calling me? No. No!" At the gasped word Kim opened her eyes to see the assistant's look of awe, complete with a rounded mouth and widen eyes, which blazed into view, tearing through the more indifferent expression formerly worn. She snapped from it, suddenly aware she had someone there, and pointed with a small nod to the chairs lined against the wall. One of which Kim was seated in.

"No, she didn't. She didn't—why? Oh how scandalous!" Kim took the time as the figure walked to the seats to survey her, peering through her hair. The slender form was obviously female, taking purposeful, cat-like strides as she snaked her way through to her seat. Glancing upward, she caught the harsh line of the girl's jaw, a biting point that flowed with gentle consistency to the rest of her face, tilted away—a pity, Kim now wanted to see the rest of the girl. Though her body and features were directed away from her, Kim could still taste the promise of a pretty face to match the eye-catching movements her walk boiled down to. Like the stalk of a tigress, devoid of all unbalance and awkward mobility, it was a show itself to watch her liquid movements, as simple as they were. A tumble of glossy brown hair snaked from her head, though its shape was hard to see, considering it looked to be swept to the side, covering one shoulder—Kim had to look away as the graceful girl's body turned fluidly, and then sat with a collected drop of her body.

"Tell me about it, Nancy, you just can't find good men these days. Uh-huh—uh-huh. Ohhhh! Good Lord, she had it comi—oh, yeah, I do, but she's in no rush, don't worry. Keep going, keep going!" Kim snatched a look at the girl, to find she had silently brought her body in a hunch similar to Kim's, propping a smooth chin on her curled fist, the other dangling over her knee. Graceful arms, a creamy color that…well, didn't clash with her shirt, unlike a certain teen-wonder. Kim bit back a grimace and looked away, half in wonderment—how could she have hidden her movements so well? Being Kim, she would have caught any shift in position…but when she had last looked, the girl had been sitting stiffly in the seat—and now reclining? 

"Mmk, sweetheart, take care." Kim caught the signal—the end of the conversation had positioned itself. Checking the clock with an avid eye, Kim fought for control of her act, squeezing out a lean to the side, cupping her chin in her palm. In the meantime the redhead caught a look at this cat-girl, seeing the definition of her nose, slicing until it rolled gently to meld with the rest of her face. Accentuating cheekbones as well were snatched in the small glance, observing and thus memorizing the newcomer's profile—a habit she had picked up through her missions. A clear curl of the girl's lip brought a frenzy of jolts to Kim's spine, though she refrained from stiffening, and so alerting this girl of her panic. Had she…? No! She didn't dare try for another look, but that smirk was burned into her memory, scalding as it issued a torrent of embarrassed feelings. She'd caught her "subtle" glance—and, goddamnit again, she usually made those things almost nonexistent!

The girl lifted, and Kim's frame released a bit of tension, allowing her slowly tightening muscles to relax, unballing her fists and hunching in a less restrained way. At the almost silent, light steps Kim peered more boldly through her hair, watching as this girl drew herself to her full height and positioned her body before the assistant. The older woman's beckoning flick of her wrist dropped to her side with a slap, tapping long nails onto the top of the desk, and sliding forward a sheet of paper.

"Your schedule, dear. Have a good first day! Now, Kim, are you all that bad, sweetie?" Kim's eyes snapped up, feigning surprise—at the same time snatching a glance at the clock…there'd be, say, ten minutes of lunch left. A slight tilt of Kim's face and a broad smile assured the older lady, who waved from the cat-walking-girl to the teen-wonder, a touch frazzled smile beaming at the two.

"Well, Kim, do you think you can last a bit longer? The newest addition here," A delighted, self-amused grin caused the overly makeuped assistant to blink. Hard. "probably would need some help to get to her first class. What is it again?"

"Social Science."

"With Mr. Fischer, dear, room 522? Can you take?"

Kim looked at the clock, before turning her grin to the assistant. "No prob! Actually, I'm feeling much better, Ms. Keller. In fact, I don't think I'll need to see the nurse."

Ms. Keller looked even more delighted, and punched at the intercom button with an eager finger. "Nurse? Kim's fine, hon, don't even think about worrying yourself, I know you've got your hands full already, kay?" Without waiting for a response the finger boredly lifted signaling their dismissal from the office. In the corner of Kim's eye, she could make out the girl approach her, her unmistakable walk tainted with confidence, a knowing, almost dangerous prowl of a lion. 

"Hey. You're Kim, right?" Finally, a chance to see the girl's face! The redhead turned, briefly shocked at the girl's stare.

Those _eyes_.


End file.
